Cormyr_ a novel - Ed Greenwood [86]
"Aye, good," Ondrin said with an excited smile. "Then I'll not waste overmuch time."
In truth, Vangerdahast hadn't heard that the man had ever wasted so much as the time it took to blink, in fewer than thirty winters, he'd bought his way from obscurity to prominence among the eastern nobles. Not a tenday passed that Ondrin Dracohorn didn't-quietly, mind you-buy this farm or that warehouse with the coins that poured into his lap, it seemed, from his busy fleets based in Marsember and Saerloon. There were the usual whispers of smuggling, piracy, slaving, and running provisions out to the Pirate Isles, and in truth, it was hard to think of any honest shipping bringing quite so many coins. But on the other hand, it was hard to think of Ondrin Dracohorn as a competent slaver.
Or pirate, or just about anything else. His short stature, ordinary looks, and pale, watery blue eyes didn't invite men to do business with him or maids to go to revels with him, but he seemed to suffer no shortage of either. Perhaps, Vangerdahast conjectured, the prevalence of folk greedy for power and easy money explained it.
Ondrin was as exultant as a small boy to be "in the know" and at the heart of deals and important events, but he seemed not to see that he stood outside most real intrigues in the court of Suzail, because-as everyone knew-he was one of the biggest loose tongues in the kingdom. Something in his inner being compelled him to tell secrets to just about everyone he met.
Ondrin liked to drink-he was fumbling with a belt flask now-and watch dancing girls, and impress folk with his wealth. He dressed in the height of fashion. Right now he was wearing a violent flame-orange cross-sash secured with a metal brooch as large a man's face. The brooch depicted a two-headed serpent transfixed on three swords, but the sash clashed horribly with the blood-purple ornamental half-cloak he'd clipped to it. Vangerdahast was thankful for the brooch, however. Keeping his eyes on that scene of serpent and swords was enabling him to keep his face straight as the excited whispers went on.
Ondrin took a pull of cordial, coughed, exhaled noisily-by the gods, cherryfire mixed with… with… mint wine? Vangerdahast glided a step back. The noble said, "Well. Listen, then: I see a Cormyr free of the uncertainty of today, with a king lying near death and the realm stirred up like bees when a hive is broken open. I see a Cormyr where the poor are richer, and the Dragon Throne less decadent. I see a Cormyr-"
Gods, but the man had good eyes, thought Vangerdahast. He was careful to let nothing of his thoughts show on his face, he was going to need this man.
"-in which the laws are more just, and the gauntlet of authority lighter!"
"Good, good," the Royal Magician said encouragingly, leaning forward to put a hand on the Blue Maiden's knee in quickening excitement. "And how will we reach this better, brighter realm?"
"'Tis a swift and simple thing," Ondrin said, watery eyes alight. "You, as regent, turn over control of the local Purple Dragon detachments all across the realm to the nobles whose lands they patrol. Then name a king-get someone to marry Tanalasta, I'll put myself forward if she hasn't been promised to someone already-and call the first true council in Cormyr's history The king can only rule as far as the nobles-by vote, one vote per holding-say he shall, so that we, the nobility, will hold the true power in Cormyr."
"You interest me," Vangerdahast said, dropping his own voice to an excited murmur and glancing around to be sure the maiden hadn't lowered her head to watch them, "but say on. You know how hidebound the old families are. I'll need to speak strongly to persuade them to do anything that so weakens the crown. How does Cormyr profit by a council of nobles having a say over the king?"
Ondrin leaned forward until his ornate pin clanked against the maiden's plinth. "Nobles, new and old, are always short of money. However